


a song of healing

by trash_rendar



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, skull kid is very old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23679100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_rendar/pseuds/trash_rendar
Summary: Zelda isn't the only one Link has kept waiting.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 123





	a song of healing

Like much of his old self, Link remembers only scraps of myth surrounding the Lost Woods – details so scant and fleeting as to be ephemeral – but this deep in the forest, even a membrane of ancient Hylian lore this thin can wrap around him in a blanket of uncertainty as thick as the fog which pushes in oppressively around him.

He’d lost his way a long time ago, losing the firelight not long after. The trees here are contorted in gruesome, bark-splitting grimaces; creatures common to Hyrule’s woodlands show themselves fleetingly, if at all, as he paces the forest floor. Sounds and smells vanish along with sight, smothered in a blanket of thick white mist.

The forest holds its breath. So does he.

Few noises can penetrate the fog here, but every so often his ears pick up something, muffled and indistinct; the rustle of leaves, the empty clap of wood against wood. Occasionally he thinks he hears laughter from something that could almost be a Korok, if it weren’t so eerie and so jeering. His arm tenses, itching for the hilt of his longsword.

A dim glimmer breaks through the gloom. Instinctually, he heads toward it. Hollow clattering dogs his footsteps no matter how he tries to shake the tail. His sword is already out by the time he closes in on the flickering light.

The light comes from a lamp hung by a clump of moss and leafy shucks from a tree branch. It’s a pale blue flame, and the eerie suggestion with which it licks the glass of its cage seems altogether fitting for its surroundings. Link pays it very little attention as he huddles beneath its gleam, watching and waiting for the hollow things to reveal themselves. His breath is labored from the jog and sweat beads his brow beneath his Hylian hood, but he sets himself for battle all the same; sword and shield in hand, he is ready for anything.

Anything but a brass horn trumpeting into his ear at full volume from an inch away.

The blast of sound disorients for just a few seconds - long enough for wide shapes with lanky limbs to lunge out of the fog. They’re some kind of puppet, he sees as they grab hold of him – bodies carved from wood and manipulated by strings whose ends ran upwards and disappeared somewhere in the treetops. Hideous grins and manic eyes are carved into their faces, vivid paint filling the cracks where the lines have been cut. They grapple him down on his knees and strip away his equipment, keeping him pinned as childlike giggling fills the claustrophobic clearing.

The lamp-bearing moss clump drops heavily to the ground. After a moment, something begins untangling itself from within the mat, spindly limbs and high-pitched cackling unfolding until a short figure is standing upright in the clearing. The horns that aren’t missing from the ancient trumpet it holds are cracked and rusted; its clothes are made of woven husks the colors of autumn, the brim of its hat so brittle it cracks and creaks as its little shoulders shake with glee.

The imp wears a mask as well, though it’s nothing like the leaf coverings of the Koroks; it conceals the face under a skull-like mien, two horns protruding from the brow and short, broken teeth protruding from the upper jaw. Even daubed in the same psychedelic paint as the puppets, the wear and tear of unknown years of age is apparent - one horn is missing its upper half, and the other is chipped to the verge of splintering. The wide orange orbs peering through the eyelets gleam with impish delight as the Champion struggles to break free; the smile beneath the mask could stretch across the moon.

“Is it someone new?” the imp asks, twisting its head left and right. “Has someone finally come to play?”

Link grits his teeth defiantly. With his arms pinned behind his back, he can’t offer much more resistance.

“It’s been so long since someone new came,” the imp giggles, shuffling closer. “We thought you’d all forgotten us… But now that you’re here, you can never leave!” It brings its forehead to the level of the crown of Link’s hood, a baleful glow in its orange-yellow eyes. “Now we can play together _forever_!”

Some disused synapse in Link’s brain finally snaps into action long enough to grant him the vision of a Stalfos in a ragged Champion’s Tunic, wandering the Lost Woods forever as the evil of Calamity Ganon sweeps over Hyrule once again. The imaginary sight disgusts him, made even more terrible by the knowledge that it could be his ultimate fate; he thrashes hard in his bonds as the imp reaches out with a rough, wooden hand and tugs away his hood.

The creature rasps horribly, staggering back as if struck; the lantern and trumpet, forgotten, clatter to the ground. The glee in its eyes has been replaced with something else, some other unplaceable emotion – something strangely close to awe. It stares at Link’s face for a long, long moment. The puppets, unexpectedly, release him, melting back into the woods and leaving the two with each other.

“Is it _you_?” it finally says. “…Did you finally come back?”

Link swallows hard. He asks if they know each other.

“…Kind of,” the creature says. It shrugs its mossy cloak higher on its shoulders, inching closer again. “We’re friends, only… you don’t always remember me.” It pulls the skull mask away from its gnarled face, fiddling with it shyly. “Though… maybe you will this time?”

There’s so much _hope_ in its voice. It breaks Link’s heart to have to let him down like he has everyone else. He tells it, gently as it can, that he can’t remember much of anything right now – that he’s lost his memory.

“You… lost it?” The imp shakes its head, like a child refusing to understand. “But… but that can’t be right. I… I didn’t even wait that _long_ this time…” Its brittle hat hides its eyes as it trembles. “I—it was only a hundred years…! Y-you can’t have forgotten me already…!”

Now it falls to its knees, too, shuddering and moaning forlornly. Link can barely reach out for its shoulder in sympathy before it crumples into his side, winding its arms around him tight, almost squeezing the breath out of him.

“It wasn’t even that _long_ ,” it whines.

Link awkwardly returns the hug, lichen staining the sleeves of his tunic in muddy green. As strange and mysterious as this child of the forest is in relation to himself, he can’t help but think of someone else he’s been keeping waiting. Though he can’t recall either of them, his heart aches a little for them both.

When the imp finally pulls away, it’s still smiling, though its eyes are wet. “Well,” it sighs, “that’s okay – like I said, you don’t usually remember me, anyway.” (It occurs to Link that this is someone used to being forgotten, to being left behind.) “But… but you’re here now, so… so maybe we can play?”

Link explains he doesn’t have the time.

“You never do,” the imp replies, and the corners of its mouth fall just a little.

Then it scoops up its still-burning lamp and scampers a short distance away. “It’s this way,” it says, tugging the skull mask back over its face. “I’ll show you the way – come on!”

The way to what?

The lamplight is already a faint gleam in the mist, springing into the air and bouncing from tree to tree. “Your sword, dummy!”

Giggling swirls through the Lost Woods as Link follows through the fog. It fades by the time he nears the great tree, and when he reaches Korok Forest, it’s gone entirely.

* * *

Later – when Calamity Ganon is defeated and the princess is free and his memories are back and there’s time, finally, to be a _person_ and not a Champion – Link returns to the forest and searches high and low for the lonely imp who’d been abandoned so often.

He doesn’t need to follow his eyes this time, just his ears. They lead him to Lake Saria, where the piping trill of a wood flute bounces around the glade, high and sweet. The forest dweller is sitting on a stump in the sun by the waterside, mossy cloak shrugged off behind him, totally absorbed in the music’s conjuring. He fumbles a few notes when he notices Link stepping out into the clearing, but under the skull mask, he’s beaming.

“I saved this,” he says, fishing something out of his pockets. It’s vaguely shaped like a sweet potato, not quite wood nor metal, covered in holes and painted a faded, sun-bleached blue. The Triforce crest sits on a band around what might be the mouthpiece. “From the old world – from back when we still had our fairies. It was yours, a long time ago… but you must have left it or forgot it because I found it, and I brought it here.” He holds it out on palms of bark, almost reverently.

Link takes the object carefully. He recalls that this particular instrument is called an ocarina though he doesn’t recall ever owning one. And yet it feels familiar to him somehow – it conjures nostalgia for places he’s never seen and people he’s never met, even though they too seem familiar to him somehow. They are old memories, older even than him – worn away by the passage of time. Faint imprints on the soul.

His fingers remember their places on the body as he puts it to his lips; after a few false starts, he finally carries a tune. It’s the reverse of the earlier song of woodland merriment; it’s slower, gentler, it carries a note of melancholy. But somehow his heart feels a little lighter upon hearing the notes, and he knows his friend – his friend he’s never met – feels the same way.

The imp answers Link’s song with his own. This one feels familiar too, for reasons Link suspects he’ll never fully understand, but he finds the call-response beat and jumps in with ease. They keep perfect time with each other, more naturally than breathing, and their duet filters through the treetops and birdsong of a forest at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> The implication in the TP manga that the Skull Kid is the same one from OoT and MM got me feeling some kind of way and I was also disappointed in the Lost Woods in BotW, so this happened
> 
> Kudos and comments are hugely appreciated!


End file.
